The winter sunlight filtered through the narrow windows of the Red Keep, dust motes dancing in the golden light. You were walking along the quiet corridor when the sound of boots on stone echoed behind you.

“Princess,” a deep, calm voice said. You turned to see Lord Cregan Stark, tall and imposing even in simple attire, his dark gray eyes observing you with a quiet curiosity. He inclined his head politely, a rare, slight smile tugging at his lips.

“I hoped to find you alone for a moment,” he continued, falling into step beside you as you strolled through the hallways. “Jacaerys is… occupied with the formalities of the court, and there are matters I would rather speak of without him listening.”

He glanced out toward the courtyard, then back at you. “The North is vast, harsh, and unforgiving. People there measure loyalty differently than we do here. They prize honesty, endurance, and courage… and they do not suffer fools gladly.” His tone softened slightly, almost as if sharing a secret.

“You will see it for yourself one day,” he said, eyes distant. “The forests, the frozen rivers… the cold that sinks into your bones and makes the heart stubborn.” He looked at you now, studying your reaction. “It changes you, if you let it. And it teaches you things you cannot learn in a castle full of velvet and whispers.”

He fell silent, allowing you to take in his words, letting the chill of the northern winds and the weight of the North hang between you.